


Disgust/Discover

by slasher48



Series: Post-Trauma. [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Demisexual Castiel, Episode: s06e10 Caged Heat, Episode: s09e03 I'm No Angel, Episode: s10e23 My Brother's Keeper, F/M, Gen, M/M, Meg Mention, Nausea, Past Rape/Non-con, Past Sexual Assault, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Pre-Slash, Season/Series 09, Season/Series 10 Spoilers, Season/Series 11, Sex-Indifferent Castiel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-28
Updated: 2015-05-28
Packaged: 2018-04-01 16:29:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,919
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4026880
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/slasher48/pseuds/slasher48
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Curiosity is humanity's greatest sin. Dean is no exception, especially when it comes to Cas.</p><p>Assuaging Dean, as he is wont to do, Castiel experiences something he hadn't expected to.</p><p>Something unpleasant.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Disgust/Discover

**Author's Note:**

> Please read the warnings at the end of the story before you read it, and feel free to hate me for writing this. Part of me hates me for writing this, but. I felt like I had to.
> 
> I wrote it mostly for myself, as a rape survivor like Castiel, to communicate my experience and gain some kind of morbid catharsis, so that should indicate what I mean by READ THE WARNINGS.

Dean says it out of nowhere, when they were talking about something else, and Castiel startles.

“What?”

“I was just wondering, like. If ‘April’ felt good.” Dean says it more softly, the second time. With audible quotes.

His grace curdles and discomfort suffuses his entire body, because that’s a question. That’s _a question_.

Not one he’s easily able to answer, though he can remember it all perfectly.

_The kiss is wet. Wetter than the only other kiss he's ever experienced, but he supposes it would be, the demon having been smoke. He is wet and she is wet and their mouths are wet. His vessel—no, not now, now it’s a body he owns for real, if he hadn’t before—feels itchy, uncomfortable, but beneath the towel as it falls onto his lap…there’s a stirring when she places her soft, warm hand there._

_It’s enough to make him recoil. Her eyes are pressing on him, when he does, and she leans in again. Kisses him again, and it’s still wet. His equilibrium is off, where they lay, and his head is spinning from the rain, from the hunger, from the touching. Everything is new, as new as this body, and he is not sure if he likes it._

_“There’s more than a sandwich for you here,” she whispers, and he is unnerved. Reminded, she offered him food. What does one do in this situation when sex follows food? When it happens in a home not one’s own? When it's offered as a balm to one being alone?_

_It seems rude to refuse. It seems…_

“Cas, you don’t have to answer that…man, I’m sorry I even asked. What a shitty fucking thing to—”

“Dean, please. Just. …I’m not sure. I’m. I…”

Dean sits up, at the end of Castiel’s bed where he’d been lying, glances at his face. He seems surprised by what must be an odd lack of expression Castiel is showing. The memories make Castiel’s fists clench.

 _He shudders_ _as a heat goes through him when her mouth and fingers lace up his thigh, but everything is wrong. This is wrong, she is wrong. The feelings._

_His penis presses up against her neck but he doesn’t want this feeling, even as below, he leaks over her collarbone. He shifts away from her hands, but she puts them on his hips and keeps his penis near her mouth._

_Her mouth closes over the shaft and the noise he makes sounds scared to his ears._

_To hers, it must be different—he hopes, because she’s laughing as he collapses on the pillow, like she’s pleased. Pleasing her almost seems worth it—he’s pleased so few lately, but the itch under his skin is violent and staying still is difficult._

_Eventually, he’s overtaken by new heat, a different, liquid feeling that makes his locked muscles ease._

_When he orgasms, he almost forgets the protests, head spinning with a kind of joy, body humming. It’s a nice feeling, for a moment. A novel one, and one he’d like to experience again, if he could. Interesting._

_But then, she moves them, and her expectation becomes clear, as he stares into a patch of red curls, and the revulsion, the wrongness, crash into him again. His stomach hurts as he looks up and she raises her eyebrows, so he looks down again, hurriedly._

_He thinks, not surprisingly, of Dean, the red in Dean’s hair when it’s sunny, and pushes his face in, ignoring his curdling stomach and trying to cling to Dean’s memory. He shouldn’t be rude, when she gave him that feeling. When she gave him shelter, and food, and an orgasm._

_The noises she makes aren’t encouraging, but is encouragement really worth this? This suffocation?_

_He tries his best, nonetheless. It isn’t the first thing he’ll have done well that he did not want to._

Castiel’s starting to shake, and with his grace, he would have thought this much effect impossible, but he is. He’s starting to shake, and he feels nauseous, like the time he ate the nachos after Nora warned him not to.

Dean is moving close, and that’s uncomfortable, for the first time. He shifts away. “No, Dean,” he manages, and his voice comes out slightly strangled. Grace should keep him from vomiting, but the _feeling_ isn’t better.

Dean backs away, puts up his hands, green eyes wide. “Hey…hey, _fuck_ , whatever you want, dude. I didn’t mean to send you into full meltdown mode, okay. Should I leave or something?”

That’s worse. He reaches out and places a hand on Dean’s calf where it’s near him and then pulls the hand back, and then places it again. “Don’t leave but…don’t, don’t touch me.” Please, he adds silently. Dean nods.

_She pushes him into the pillows with a roll of her eyes. Playful, he thinks, but it makes him feel no less shame. At least his incompetence kept him from being down there too long. Good with the bad, Dean’d say._

_“I guess we’ll have to get to the main event sooner than later,” she says, warmth in her voice. He digs his fingers into the underside of the pillow, half-hoping she won’t see him trying to brace himself as her hip slides over his penis—when she reaches for something he can’t see, and she grins._

_“You look kind of helpless like this, big strong man surrendering to little ol’ me. I like it.”_

_He wishes he had grace and could stop the body he owns from hardening. He wishes his discomfort could stop her hand from being effective when she grabs him and he stiffens under her slick fingers._

_He tries for a grin. Reaches for something that makes him smile mentally, tries to say steadily, “I am, kind of. This being so…new. For me.”_

_It seems to work. She slips herself onto him and he starts to panic; she’s **everywhere** , he’s buried within her, and she’s wet inside like she was in her mouth and this is…_

_God help him, this is something he wishes he couldn’t do. Couldn’t feel, as he was able not to before, without a vessel—when he was pure grace._

_Even when she moves and that heat starts to spread again, even as his orgasm approaches and his thought process dissolves as he feels, purely._

_Even when it happens, when it eases him again, and the smile comes easier, lies (and too much truth, he’ll learn the next morning) come easier…_

_“More of this, I hope.” A laugh managed, shared with someone he doesn’t know, who’s kind, and gentle, who cares if it was ‘okay’, who deserves to be told it was, but is…_

_Is…_

_He can manage no more pleasant words, so he’s glad she kisses him, in one way._

_Everything inside him is tense and unwell. The kissing is still wet._

Castiel can remember lying there, as she got up, to get washed, after she stopped kissing him. Feeling the fluids on him, feeling _her_ fluids on him, and feeling sick under his smile. Struggling to stifle an urge to scratch all over himself and get it _off_. “Aren’t words,” indeed. None. Just a wordless screaming in his brain.

And get her off, push her away, when she lay down again. He’d liked the warmth near him, in a way, remembered it from being Emmanuel and having a wife who loved him, soaked in that lack of the aloneness he felt so often and _more_ so as a human, but with her, with April, he’d felt too close, too near her, too undone.

 _This is a lesson hard learned. Pleasure but displeasure. A rush unlike anything, yet **badly**_ _overcome. A false joy he hopes he’ll never have to feign again._

_He feels more as though he’s drowned than how he felt the first time he showered—how he’d expected sex to feel after having heard Dean’s excitement: warm and comforted and changed for the moment, for the better._

_He just wants to come back from this whole. And, nervously, fears he won’t._

_…So much exhaustion, his body fighting and feeling, that he sleeps easily for the first time._

_A mistake—another one, like this ‘sex’, of so **many** , of **innumerable** “foolish, unwise things”— in a different way entirely, because leaving would have saved his life, but he won’t know until he wakes._

Castiel sits up, presses a hand against his stomach as he bends over off of the side of the bed, clutches his hair. With his own grace back, this shouldn’t be _possible_ without a powerful spell, but he’s near to vomiting in a way he’s never been before, even when he ate the nachos, feet flat on the floor, eyed squeezed shut.

He hadn’t realized until now, but he hasn’t thought about her since that moment, at the table, distantly. A shared “joke” with Dean had been all it was. But it _happened_ to him.

It happened, and remembering it harms him in a way he’s unprepared for. If he pushes himself to think of her, it’s hot and wet and _terrible._

“No,” he finally manages, gasps, “It did not, with her, it—” and stands, abruptly. Away from this conversation, he has to get away, get distance.

He finds himself in the kitchen. Dean hasn’t followed him; he’s drinking a glass of water, like it could cleanse his insides of the memory. He doesn’t feel it; his grace won’t allow it to give him comfort.

He drapes himself over the counter, clutches the edge, exhales slowly. Accesses his grace, but it won’t function with this as it should. Tries to remember just the feeling of orgasm, and it’s easier, with distance from the actual act, to enjoy that.

The orgasm was nice. “Very much so.”

Which is what he says, when Dean walks in. Exact words, and that’s all he means. Hopefully Dean gets it.

He should have been more upfront, right away. He should have agreed more readily, when Dean told him he’d been raped, later that night. Dean might not have nudged him in a direction ensuring this grace-deep distaste if he had. Of course, he’s sure Dean has no idea what would occur, not for an angel. Castiel hadn’t even known.

“So you like orgasms, but you didn’t want her and you didn’t like it, ‘cause it was with her. I get that right?”

He nods, tightly. “Can we…can we stop. Dean, I’d like to stop.”

Dean makes an ‘mhm’ noise, and leans against the counter. Near him, but not uncomfortably so.

They stand there, in silence, as Castiel breathes through the souvenirs she left him. Dean doesn’t try to talk.

Eventually, Castiel stands fully, lets go of the counter, and pats Dean’s shoulder.

“Sam will want to tell us what he’s found of The Darkness’s latest,” he says quietly. He prays Dean can hear the gratitude in his tone. He wants Dean to know that he appreciates what just happened in the kitchen. If not, _necessarily_ , what happened prior. The emotional discovery is educational, though, at least— like the act itself.

Dean nods, nudges him companionably with a fond glance, and walks toward the doorway, leaving Castiel alone with his thoughts again.

For a moment, he recalls her voice, saying he’s _attractive_ ; he has to shake it off, shudder through it, until he feels okay again, until it’s away from the forefront of his mind.

Then he leaves, the way Dean went, leaving _her_ behind again. For now.

**Author's Note:**

> Warning for EXPLICIT references to, including both graphic 'memories' of and direct Castiel quotes from, 9x03. There's a forced blowjob, forced giving of cunnilingus, and forced vaginal penetration, to be exact.
> 
> Keep in mind, I am a survivor of rape but not of penetrative rape--nor do I have a dick myself--so, I can't be 100% sure this is how it feels. I'm only making educated guesses based upon how I felt.
> 
> I am also guessing at how orgasms feel during rape, when you didn't want them, but they are a new, largely nice feeling (though I know how they feel in general, and I do remember the half-pleasant but unwanted and thus uncomfortable feel, of my own rape, and I do have Castiel's experience to work from). 
> 
> Feel free to leave me any kind of critique you have. Even if it's just to scream "HOW DARE YOU WRITE THIS".
> 
> ...This is, as the first in the series was against allosexism, my rebellion against people who think that because Castiel enjoyed any of his time with Reaper!April, Castiel was not raped. 
> 
> Castiel was raped--by Deception, as survival sex, as a prompt-responsive, disabled someone who did not feel comfortable saying no, but Castiel also discovered an appreciation for some of what 'sex' could offer. He was educated as to how both orgasms and a forced assault feel. He could, conceivably, have liked the former without the latter being invalidated. K? K.
> 
> It takes one (a survivor) to know one, basically.


End file.
